No one wins, no one loses

This post has been a while in the works, mostly because I have needed time to process my own emotions, as well as help the people around me with theirs.  I kept writing through the holidays, and the New Year, but didn’t post because I was too much of an emotional raw nerve.  Now I’ve had time to process things, so I’m back.

We got the answer for the custody, and while we didn’t get joint custody like we wanted, we still gained ground.  To summarize, my BF had visitation every other weekend a week in the summer, and three extra days at New Year’s.  We wanted joint custody; The Ex wanted more child support and less visitation.

We ended up with joint custody in the summer, but the rest of the year stays the same, so we end up with 4 extra weeks a year with the kids.  While it’s not what we wanted, we are still happy because 1) We get more time with the kids, and 2) A judge confirmed that my BF is a good dad, so her constant threats that she will take away his visitation rights no longer have any weight.  Also, because he will have the kids more, his child support goes down.

All in all, we take it as a win, we are further ahead than we were, and the most important part, the kids are happy with knowing that they will get more time with their dad.

All we have left now is to try and agree on which weeks each parent gets during the summer, and it’s looking like it will be decided in court.  My BF wants a fair 5 weeks each, she wants 6-4 in her favour of course, but that’s another battle.

We talked it out, and we decided not to appeal the decision, it was so hard on everyone, us, the kids, that we just aren’t ready to go through that kind of emotional wringer again right away.  We will take the win and focus on building on what we have.

Vacation

I was talking with a friend the other day, a fellow stepmother, and we came to the idea that since mothers and fathers get parental leave, we stepparents should get an extra week’s vacation per year. I know I could use it.

In the past three years of stepmother hood, I have lost my job 3 times, and because of this, I have only gotten one week vacation per year instead of the usual two since I have always been starting over. Since we get the kids for one week in the summer, I’ve taken my week then. This means that between jobs, the kids, and the custody battle, I have gotten exactly zero true vacation days in the past three years.

This realization stemmed from the fact that I have been a little too eagerly looking forward to my BF going away this weekend. He’s the one going on a trip, but I am more excited than him. I will have about 50 hours all to myself, no kids, no BF, just me and the cats. I plan to make them count. I know most people are thinking “hey, that’s life with kids, there is no vacation” and I understand that point of view, but my reality is that I live alone for over 10 years before my BF moved in, and I loved it. I work as a receptionist, my job is to be social, so when I get home, I like the quiet, and I miss the quiet.

All of this made me think of an episode of Sex and the City, where they talk about their secret single behaviours, for some people it could be peanut butter on saltines while reading vogue, for me it’s reading a good book, or sleeping in. I just need to be accountable only to myself for a little while. I will probably clean or organize a closet or something, but the point is that I will do it because I want to, not because I have to, or someone needs me to. I guess you could say I need to be selfish for a couple of days to recharge.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my BF and step kids more than I thought possible, and I don’t begrudge the attention they need, but lately I have just been feeling so empty, more apathetic than I usually am, and I know it’s just that I need to take care of me.

So this weekend, I am going to sit in my living room, close my eyes, and listen to the quiet.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Write a blog post inspired by the word: vacation

Stepmommy issues

This time last year I was writing a lot about mother daughter issues, mostly my issues as a daughter/daughter in law.

It seems ironic that this year the issue would be about my issues as a stepmother.  Anytime now we should be getting the judge’s decision about custody.  Anytime now I could be more than tripling my time as a parent.

I recently told my best friend that I was scared either way.  I’m scared about the challenge of day to day parenting, something I never expected to do, and I’m also scared about losing.  Either way, the coming months are bound to be crazy.  I’ll either be trying to find my groove with the kids, or trying to deal with everyone’s grief at not getting joint custody.

The bio mom has intensified her attacks, I feel like every time I think she has reached the point of ultimate viciousness, she ups her game and hits even lower.  My best friend keeps reminding me that things can’t really get much worse than they are now, we can’t see the kids any less, and my BF is already paying the maximum in child support. 

I feel like lately all I have been doing is trying to shield everyone around me, and then I go to bed at night and worry about how I will get through it all.  That is when I remember my Nanny telling me that when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, just focus on your feet, and put one foot in front of the other.  Eventually, you’ll get there.

So I’m just focusing on the simple things, my new job, getting a Christmas tree for the kids, and trying to fit in all of the family parties.  This year I’m just gonna cross my fingers, let go, and hope for the best.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : What were you blogging about a year ago today? What has changed?

Today is the day

There have been so many little moments that I felt like I was really becoming a parent, but I think today it really hit me.  Today I realized that I was a parent, no matter what happens in the future, even if one day I am not with my BF anymore, my life and my perspective is forever changed.

I can say with absolute certainty, that the past two weeks have been the hardest of my entire life.  From someone with a past of abuse and suicide attempts, that is saying a lot.  In the past two weeks, my BF went to court to fight for his kids, then we had the maddening waiting, then I got fired.  I have no job, and I have no idea what my life will look like tomorrow let alone next week.

More than once, I have sat and thought of myself ''why haven't I cracked?''.  Far less pressure has pushed me over the edge in the past. 

Last night, we had a hard decision to make, in a very delicate situation, with a lot on the line.  One false move and the effects on our family could be irreparable.  We have suspected for a while that something was happening to his youngest at their mom's, something that happened before and last night we got to a point where we had to act.  We waited until the boys were asleep and bundled her up to go to the emergency room.  My sister in law came over with her baby and sat with the sleeping boys.

We waited for the social workers, and her mom was called, I went home to wait and see.  That is the most maddening part, the fact that in the most serious situations, I can do nothing, I just have to wait and trust that everything will work out.  When they came back from the hospital, my SD came and snuggle in next to me in our bed and fell immediately asleep.

Later in the wee hours of the morning, their mom finally got her message and came over upset and my BF explained everything, well more like he angrily told her.  I said that everyone should just calm down and that she should come back the next day.  She left, and we attempted to sleep.  I went to bed thinking to myself, ''this is it, I'm gonna wake up and I'm not gonna be able to get out of bed''.  I don't know how I managed to fall asleep.
I woke up, got out of bed, and took care of the kids.  I made lunch and waited with my BF for the kids' mom to come over.  When she got here with her best friend the three of them went to talk to my SD.  When they came out, they were visibly shaken.  My SD told her mom what happened, and she looked terrible.  I told her that we will make it through this, and that we will put aside all of our differences and do what is right for the kids.  She thanked me and the three of them left for the police station to file the report.

After they left, I called a friend, and fellow step mom, to talk.  I told her how I don't know how I am dealing with this, and then it hit me.  I am dealing with this because I no longer have a choice.  I thought about the last time when I stopped myself before an attempt, it was the first time I asked for help, and it was because I had my family here, I thought about them, I had a responsibility to them.

This time I think something inside me realized that I can't even allow myself to get to that point, this time I have a spouse and kids.  I am more scared than ever before, I have more to lose than ever before, and apparently I am stronger than ever before.

Today I understand what it means to truly be a parent and put your family first.

Waiting

I can’t think of anything more torturous for me than what I am feeling right now.

After almost a full day of changing judges and postponements, my BF has finally gone in to the courtroom for his custody hearing.  He was supposed to go in at 9 :15, it is now just past three, and I, being just the stepmom, am waiting on a hard wooden bench just outside the courtroom, waiting, not allowed in since they are not my kids.

He is trying to get shared custody, a process that he started in April, and a process that has been infuriatingly slow.   Not once since the very beginning of our relationship have I felt so much an outsider.  I have been there every step of the way, making phone calls for him, seeking out documentation, lawyer visits, the whole shebang, right up until this moment.  In this moment, I am set aside.

I doesn’t matter that my future is being decided on the other side of those double doors as much as everyone else in the room.  If he wins, I will go from being an every other weekend stepmom, to 50% of the time.  I will share in all the details and responsibilities that it entails, homework, packing lunches, school pickups, but I can’t share in this.  By supporting his decision, I have effectively committed myself to a relationship more than any other in my past, the next 15 years at least.  If he loses, I will share in his grief for the home and family that could have been.

No matter that I am as involved, I don’t get a say, I don’t even get to watch.  I get to sit here, alone, for the next few hours while the lawyers and my BF and his ex fight it out.  Waiting.

If I am honest with myself, I know that whatever happens I will adapt, that is not what worries me.  If we win, her anger at me will multiply and there will surely be even more attacks on me, and that is a burden I am willing to take on if it means I can shield the kids 50% of the time and offer them stability.  If we lose, I worry about how my BF and the kids will take it.  We have a couple of friends who lost their custody battle 5 years ago and now they are picking up the pieces of some very damaged teenagers. 

I think that is what worries me most.  If we lose, i twill reinforce the idea that she is all powerful and all deciding to the kids, and I worry they will stop standing up for themselves and give up.  I don’t want them to lose the confidence and empowerment we have worked so hard to instill in them.  I would hate for them to think that it’s not worth fighting for your family against someone like her.  I want them to see that if you fight together, as a family, you can win.

But it’s the waiting that is killing me, wondering if it’s going ok, if she’s lying, if the judge seems to believe her.  At this point I can do no more, it is up to the judge, and I know I should let go, let the proof speak for us.  All I can do is wait, hope, and who knows, maybe even pray a little.

Brave

When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up and be brave.  At the time this meant that I would be an archeologist or an anthropologist, travelling the world to obscure and secluded places a la Indiana Jones.  I remember reading somewhere that courage was being scared but doing the right thing anyways, and I believed in that.

Then the teenaged years hit, and I no longer wanted to be brave, I wanted to forget, to not feel.  By my late teens, there was no more need to be brave; I was so self destructive that no one around me thought I would make it past 27.  Since the future and the unknown/uncontrollable is usually what scares me the most, not expecting to have a future made being brave easy.

Then in my early 20s I wizened up, moved here and started over.  After my first year here, the thing that scared me the most was normalcy.  I didn’t want to get sucked into what I saw as a mind numbingly boring life with a husband and 2.4 kids and a house in my teeny tiny hometown.  My family tried for years to stuff me into that mold, and I fought just as hard to do the exact opposite.  By this point I had realized and come to terms with the fact that I was pretty messed up and I decided not to impose my craziness on anyone else.  I would brave my life alone, independent, no man, no kids.

After a few years, a couple of relationships, a total breakdown,  a bunch of therapy and the was even more secure in my idea that I should be alone, and that it would be fine.  My definition of bravery had gone from grand adventure to facing a future alone, and I was ok with that idea.

Then I met my BF, and as I got more and more involved with him I encountered a fear more intense than any I have ever encountered before.  I realised that this relationship was different, whereas before I had loved someone and taken the risk of losing that person, this time I was quadrupling my risk, this time around I risked losing a family.  There was a turning point where I had to make a decision.  The more involved I got, the more I would have to lose and the less control I had over the future, and the more terrified I was.  Then I remembered that bravery was being scared and doing it anyways, and I dove in.  Almost immediately, another realization hit, I was headed head first into that mind numbing boring life I didn’t want.  That second fear I rationalized away, I told myself that I was only a weekend stepmom, and that I wouldn’t have the day to day boring parenting stuff to do.

I spent the next year and a half or so patting myself on the back, I had conquered my fear, and had triumphed, all would be well…or so I thought.

A few months back we got hit with a whole lotta crap, and we hit another crossroads.  It was starting to look more and more like the best thing for the kids, and us, was to ask for shared custody.  Then one day, SS1 came right out and asked for it.  My BF, being the wonderful guy he is put no pressure on me other than to say that he was seriously thinking about it, but that he would not, and could not, do it without me being 100% on board.

Just as I was finally hitting my stride with this whole step-parent thing, BAM! Right in the kisser.  The fear was even more intense than the last time; there were so many more questions, and doubts.  We discussed it over and over, the pros, the cons, the uncertainties.  I wasn’t sure if I was ready, or if I would be any good at the day to day stuff.  I knew the Ex would have a fit and would take out all of her rage on me.  Was I willing to give up the faint, yet still present possibility of a adventure filled life to devote myself to his kids for the next 14 or so years.  Anyone who knows me will tell you right off the bat that I am not a long term commitment person.  The longest I’ve had a job is 2.5 years, same for relationships.   Lucky for me, I have a lot of supportive people around me who whole heartedly believe that I will make a good parent, even if I’m not sure.

The truth is, I still don’t have any answers to any of those questions, and I am still terrified, which is why I’ve been hiding from the interwebs for the past while.  The only thing I do know, is that I have decided that I am willing to dive in even further, and that this family we have created is worth the fear.  We started proceedings for shared custody this summer, and have our court date for November.  This time the fear is not going away, or even lessening, but I am doing it anyways, and hoping it’s the right thing.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Write a post inspired by the word: brave

Morning surprises

This past monday we had the kids, biomom had a thing out of town and is just getting back this afternoon, so we offered to do the school run. Here are some things I have never had to say/do before that I found myself doing last night/this morning.

1-Arguing with someone about the necessity of wearing pants - "Yes you have to wear pants, but you can take them off when we get to your aunt's house if you want."

2-Convincing someone to change their underwear - "I don't care how you do things at your mom's, here we change our underwear every day"

3-Make lunches for someone other than myself.

4-Eagerly waiting for the kids to go to bed so we can watch our grown up movie

5-Getting ready with other people around - My BF has usually left for work by the time I wake up, so I am usually alone in the morning.

6-Getting fully dressed immediatly upon waking up - I usually get hair/makeup done in my underwear, see point 5

7-Smiling in the morning - I am not a morning person, and it usually takes me a while to feel human, see point 5

8-Saying, honestly and without a hint of sarcasm, "Yes honey, I'm very proud of you for not pooping in the bathtub, I'll be sure to tell mommy, she'll be so happy"

A year ago

A year ago this week on my blog, there was nothing.  A year ago we were living one of the hardest things one can as a family, the possibility of one of the children being abused, and not knowing by who.  We were meeting with children’s services, and generealy just trying to keep our s**t together.

A year ago I had hope, because the kids’ mom and us were acting as a unit, a team, in the best interests of the kids.  I had hoped that it would be a new beginning for us all.

Sadly, my hopes were dashed, and while everthing worked out last year, this year is different.  

A year later we are having to fight for my BF’s visitation with the kids, and with the constant threats on her part that she will make sure we never see them.  This year, instead of her asking for my help, she is hurling insults and threats at me.  It has been over two months since she said she no longer wanted to see me or hear from me, and I have respected that.  Now she says that she wants a court order to make sure I can’t have contact with the kids, that I would have to leave my home when they are there.

ven if I know I have done nothing wrong, the threat is there.  I wonder what vile thing she will say, what will she accuse me of in order to get her way.  I know she can’t simply say «  I don’t want my kids to see her » as a reason, so what will she say?  I worry constantly about what she says to the kids about me, and how she may be making them feel conflicted about their feelings.

A year has passed, and though the particuliar situation has changed, I am still just trying to go one daya t a time and keep my s**t together.  This time it is much harder to hope and have faith that everything will work out.  I keep trying to remember my Nanny’s words, « when things are so dark that you can’t see the light, you just look down at your feet and focus on each step, eventually you will reach the light. »

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - Look into your archives. What were you blogging about a year ago around this time? Are you still dealing with the same thing? Your thoughts?

A love story the makes me happy.

It was summer 1943, a 17 year old girl went with her sister to go meet a young man that her parents thought suitable for her.  Being in a rural area, they were to go and sit with the boys on the porch at the boys’ home, dating the way we think of it didn’t exist.  The went by buggy, since the boys were one town over, and while they were to be chaperoned with the boys, for the buggy ride it was just the two girls.  The eldest was used to her independance, as she had been working for the family from a young age, either carrying homemade jams into town to sell, or helping out for women who had recently given birth.  A sort buggy ride was nothing new or daunting to her.

Meanwhile, two young men, aged 18 and 19 were making themselves as presentable as possible after a hard day of clearing forest by hand.  They washed away the sweat and dirt with the help of their mother and then sat on the porch to await the young ladies coming to meet them.  Meanwhile, another young man, only just 16, teased his brothers about their "wife shopping".  He did his usual quick wash up after a days’ work, and sat with his brothers.

They would later say it was instant, fireworks.  The 17 year old, fiercly independant girl, and the shy barely 16 year old boy.  In those days i twas almost unheard of for a girl to be older than her fiance, and it turned out to be quite the scandal since she had been intended for his eldest brother, but from that day on, they only had eyes for eachother and neither would budge.

Almost two years later, after a long courtship due to the groom being on the young side and a little cought unawares and unprepared, they were married in a triple ceremony.  Two sisters and a brother married two brothers and a sister.  The war was coming, and this was not a rich area, so no one thought it odd that they would all share the ceremony since the guest lists would be the same anyways.

For their time and their place, they were quite the odd couple to an outsider’s eyes.  He was a tall, stocky man, she a tiny wisp of a woman who only ever weighed 100lbs when she was pregnant.  She hated cooking, so she bought ready made food during the week, and he would cook the family dinners on the weekends when he was home.  During the week she wore pants, and drove a car, and took care of most aspects of her husband’s affaires.  It was widely known that it was he who was the soft touch.

They would share in 15 pregnancies, 11 births, and 9 children who survived to adulthood.  At the wedding of their second child, she was pregnant with the last.  When people would ask why she didn’t demand a second bedroom as most women did at the time, she would just smile, and say that her husband belonged in her bed.

Years later he would be diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, and as his health deteriorated, people would ask why she didn’t just place him in a home, she would just smile, and say that her husband belonged in her bed.

Eventually, he was so sick that he had no mobility whatsoever, and it was then that her children decided to force her to put him in a nursing home.  The home was a 20 minute drive away, but she went every day.

In 1995, he died, less than a year later it was her in the nursing home.  She gave up driving, shopping and most activities, the only thing she enjoyed anymore was visits from her family, where she would always repeat the family is what is most important in this world.

In 2009, when she was nearing the end, her mind started to wander, and often happens, and she would spend most of her time reliving other periods of her life.  They all included him.  Once, she asked for her blue shoes, when asked why, she replied that the blue shoes went with her blue dress and that she had to hurry and get ready because Nelson was on his way to take her dancing.  Almost 15 years after his death, he was still alive, and well, and young and handsome in her head.

This story makes me smile because it is the story of my grandparents.  They were far from perfect, but they had an amazing love and a true partnership.  No matter how jaded I became, I would imagine them young, her in her blue dress, dancing, and I would remember that though it is rare, that kind of love does exist.

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - A love story the makes you happy

How I met his kids

We had been dating for a couple of months, things were going well so far, and we had been keeping things on the down low because we wanted to see if things worked between us without adding in any extra variables.  I had always refused to date guys with kids before, and I knew that his relationship with his ex was complicated to say the least, but I had a good feeling about this one.  I was beyond freaked out though, I wasn’t sure I was up to the task of being a stepmom, or even if I wanted to be.

Then there came a point where we had to see how things would go with the kids.  As much as we were into each other, we know that my bond with the kids, or lack thereof, would be a deal breaker.  So we took the plunge.

We decided to start with the boys, as they were older, and his daughter was only 18 months old at the time.  We picked a nice neutral place, bowling.  He had told me a lot about them already, so I had an idea of what to expect.  Boy 1, the oldest, was friendly and outgoing and affectionate, Boy 2 was quiet and reserved, mostly due to his dysphasia and lack of verbal skills.  We met at the alley, played a few sets.  Boy 1 didn’t take long to warm to me, Boy 2 only gave me a few smiles, but my BF said he thought it went well, the kids liked me, and I liked them.

A couple of weeks later it was Easter, and I was invited to meet his family, as well as his daughter.  Everyone was there by the time I arrived.  I opened the door to my name being shrieked.  Boy 1 ran to me and gave me a great big hug.  My future MIL smiled, so far I was making a great first impression.  Then as I was taking off my shoes, Boy 2 calmly walked up to me and gave me a quick hug around my legs, I didn’t realize then how meaningful that was.  My MIL was shocked, but in a very pleasant way, she knew how rare it is for him to demonstrate physical affection, even if I didn’t at the time.

Next was the Girl, who proceeded to not say a word and give me the stink-eye all through brunch.  Even an Easter chocolate only got me a warily opened hand.  She was only 18 months old at the time, but her little personality was starting to show.  It was only late in the evening that I got a small smile from her.  I know now that it’s just the way she reacts to unfamiliarity, she basically shuts down, no sound, no expression of any kind.

I focused on the boys, and the in-laws that I had just met.  I remember it felt like a really stressful job interview, both sides trying to figure out whether or not I could one day fit into this family.  MIL1 was distant but polite, but the fact that I obviously made her son and grandsons happy encouraged her.

Fast forward to my BF’s next visitation weekend, he gets the kids in the car, put the key in the ignition, and immediately hears “Where’s Damsel?”, and that was it, I was in for the ride of my life.  Now I think of easter as our family's anniversary, the day our new family started.

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - An Easter memory

Conspiracy theories...part two

Continued from Monday’s post 

We weren’t in the car 5 minutes when my BF’s cell phone rang.  I heard her voice, but I was driving so I tried not to pay attention.  He wasn’t saying much, but what could he say with the kids right there. All I kept thinking was “please don’t let her be telling him to bring the kids back”.  He hung up, obviously distressed, I asked him if everything was ok, he said no.  I asked him in English if we had to bring back the kids, he said no.  This was about all he said until we got home. 

He asked me what happened between me and her, I told him.  He told me that she told him she never wants to have anything to do with me and that if she saw me on her property she would call the police.  I was in shock, I knew she was crazy and had a tendency to overreact, but this was new.  I went to check on the kids, when I got back, he was sitting in a chair in the dark living room.  I asked him if he was mad at me, he said he didn’t know what to think.  I got furious.  I was only defending him and his rights, and he might be mad at me!  How dare he!  We didn’t speak to each other that night.

The next morning, when he woke me up because he was leaving for SS2’s hockey practice, I told him I loved him, we hugged, and he said he loved me too, and left.  When he came back, he was alone.  Apparently she had showed up at the practice and had gone into the changing room with SS2 after.  When SS2 came out, he had a donut and said he wanted to go home with his mom.  My BF, holding to our rule of not manipulating the kids and letting them express themselves freely, agreed.  When he got into his car, she came up to him.  According to him he really laid into her, and then drove away, exactly as I had.  We sat together and talked it out.  I told him that her reaction essentially meant that it would be up to him for the next while to fight for us, our family.  Unfortunately I am not a genetic parent, and therefore have no rights, and she can bar me from her home.  I told him that if she wanted to continue this level of hostility I did not want her in my home either, and he agreed that we would make our home an EX free zone as much as we could.  I told him that I was confident that he was ready to take up the baton and stand up for himself, and us.  He replied that while he was less confident in his abilities, he was ready to give it all he has.  As with everything, we would face this together.

Not long after, the phone rang, it was her, SS2 wanted to come back.  My BF told her to meet him at the swimming lesson to drop him off.  The rest of the weekend went great, the kids were happy, fun was had by all.  Sunday afternoon the kids were playing outside, and we were inside, watching them from the window.  My BF gave me a hug and said we can do this, together we are stronger than her.  I think it was the most optimistic thing I have ever heard him say, and I believe him.

Conspiracy theories

I know I’ve been MIA for a little while, but there has been an epic shift in our family dynamic.  Last week the ex started anew with her manipulation efforts.  This weekend was our weekend with the kids, and we had a bunch of stuff planned.  Monday night she calls to say that she wants the kids on Saturday for a birthday party.  We said no because we were already going to a party in another city this weekend, and we had already made the plans.  Needless to say, she wasn’t happy about not getting her way; she started going on about how was she supposed to explain it to the kids etc.  I said easy, give the phone to the oldest and I would do the explaining.  Eventually, she gave him the phone, and I barely had time to tell him our plans before he was excited.  He gave the phone back, and I said that he didn’t seem upset, and that I considered the matter closed.

After that, all this week my BF had been stressing, worried about whether she would make trouble, or worse, not be there when we go to pick up the kids.  Friday comes along, and we head to her new place, as she has moved, again.  When we got there, she was playing a ninja video game with the kids.  This from the woman who reamed us out for having similar games at our house and here she was, playing one with them.  I told her that I felt it was hypocrisy on her part, and that I didn’t want to hear any more judgement on her part for our home and what we allow.  The kids then wanted to show me their rooms, and honestly, I wanted to see.  She doesn’t have the best track record, at one point the kids were in a basement with a cement floor and 2x4s for walls.

I started in my stepdaughter’s room, and was not surprised.  No sheets on the bed, an old couch, and some toys that had spent over a year outside at the other place, now inside, but apparently not washed.  Then on to the boys.  Her whole argument for moving was to have the boys in separate rooms after the incidents during the past year.  She wanted to separate them and have better supervision.  The boys were in newly built rooms, with no doors, and no flooring.  She had put foam mats on the cement, which help with the hard floor, but do nothing for the humidity or insulation.  I turned around and saw a door to outside.  So the boys were now alone, in the basement (so no supervision) with easy access to outside without her knowing.  I think my dismay was pretty apparent on my face.  I asked her if the boys would be getting floors or doors soon, and she said that she didn’t have money for that.  I said nothing les and went upstairs.  My BF was at the door, and we got ready to go.  My BF went to get the kids in the car and I stayed to ask her one last question, had the swimming lessons been paid, because we had been approached by the instructor and it was embarrassing, and we didn’t want to repeat that experience.  She said that it was paid, but that she didn’t have a confirmation.  She then started trying to defend her playing the game and I said that I didn’t want to get into it.  Since her defence wasn’t working, she went on the offence, attacking us, and my BF saying that he never took care of the kids etc., and how I know nothing because I’ve barely been around for a year.  I told her that I’ve been around for over two years now, and that my BF takes very good care of the kids.  She then let her crazy out and said that my BF doesn’t care about the kids; it’s that my MIL and I are using him to conspire to take the kids away for ourselves.  I was taken aback; I mean what do you even say to that level of crazy.  I told her she was paranoid, that I was not trying to steal her children and that I was not going to continue this conversation.  I turned, got in the car, and pulled away while she stood, fuming, in her doorway.

This isn’t the end of the story, I’ll continue this a little later this week when I’ve had time to get my thoughts in order.

5 Random facts about us

1-According to a recent study by the Geneva School of Business, my BF and I now have proof that we are the perfect couple.  We had already suspected it, but it's noce to have science go and prove it (we had a good laugh about htis one and it has become our inside joke.)

2-On one side of my family I am the first Canadian, on the other side, my family has been here almost 350 years.  My BF has no idea about his family.

3-Someone recently brought to my attention that the roles of everyone in our household (full-time and part-time) are very clearly defined, routines as well.  This was not in any done or decided on purpose, but evolved on its own based on everyone’s likes/dislikes/pet-peeves.  I do laundry and cat related things because they are my cats and my clothes tend to need more care and my BF does dishes and takes out the garbage because he is the major dish user in the house (he uses a plate for one piece of toast).  The kids have fallen into a routine of video games in the morning, then after lunch the games are turned off until the following day.  The funny thing is that both my BF and I generally tend to be improvisers.

4- Though my BF and I are both French/English bilingual, and watch 90% of TV/Movies in English, we never speak to each other in English, unless we are trying to hide something from the kids.

5-When it comes to the tech and car stuff in our household; I am the one who generally takes care of the maintenance and minor repairs.  I’m not a full-fledged DIYer, but I know way more about cars and technology than the BF and am the one who can usually at least diagnose the problem when there is one.  When it comes to home repairs, we are about 50/50.

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - 5 Random facts about you and your family

Demands

After almost two years together, I recently made my first demand of my boyfriend.  In general, I don’t really interfere much with what he wants to do with his time, mostly because I am pretty independent myself and I wouldn’t want him demanding to know how I spend every minute or telling me what to do, so I don’t do it to him.  I try my best to be supportive.

A few times a year, his work asks him to go on trips lasting anywhere from one to two weeks, and up until now I have never said much about it.  These trips are important to him because he makes a good amount of money when he goes, and with his child support payments, he is on a pretty tight budget.  These trips generally earn him the money he needs for his activities like hockey etc.

The past three trips however, have impacted me very negatively.  Every single time his ex causes major drama and I end up having to deal with it alone.  Though I suspect that she does this on purpose, knowing that he is far away and kind of helpless in the situation she creates, I can’t prove it.  All I know is the past three trips have ended up with me alone, dealing with some pretty harsh situations, even having to fight for his rights with his kids at times.  It’s not just the drama, but the fact that I have to absorb all of it myself, and I don’t have him to lean on.  I have to deal with the harassing phone calls and texts, the yelling, the threats. 

He says he hates leaving and making me deal with this, but he needs the money.  It has gotten to the point where if he is away and she calls or texts, I have an immediate physical reaction, a nauseous knot in my stomach.  This is in addition to the worrying about what she might do.

All three times he has said it would be his last trip.  The other night, he mentioned that he was thinking about the next one, I put my foot down.  I told him that trips within a day of driving were still fine with me, but anything else I can’t deal with.  If he is within driving distance and there is an emergency or she does something, then he can come back, he is also much more reachable by telephone or text etc.

I told him that I cannot deal with her crap alone anymore, and that I felt it was unfair to ask me to continue.  I said that as long as she is as volatile and unpredictable as she is, I refuse to deal with it alone.  He chose her, he chose to have kids with her, and it is just not fair for him to ask anyone else to deal with her in his place.  I will always stand beside him, and back him up, and help him, but I can’t deal with the stress and worry alone.

As with anyone receiving a demand, he didn’t like it.  I replied that I would rather talk about it now, before there is an actual trip, while there is no urgency, but that I don’t want him to go on another long trip.  I put up my first real boundary in our relationship, made my first non-negotiable demand.  I just hope he understands that I am asking this in order to avoid reaching my breaking point, or slipping into a depression, or resenting him for putting me in these situations.

Duelling Mother's in Law - Part Two

It all started on the phone.  I called her to confirm an event, I don’t remember what exactly.  I remember it was after a particularly difficult week with the kids’ mom, she was full of hateful words that week, and I was exhausted.  For the first time ever, my mother in law asked me if I was ok.  She knew what was happening with the ex, she had seen the attacks on Facebook etc., she had even gotten a little involved by sticking up for me, another first for her.

This time it was more than a casual « how are you? » for politeness, she honestly wanted to know if I was coping.  I told her that I was ok, but that I was finding it hard, that I was a bit worn out.  This led to a conversation that was different than the others we had had, which were mostly, I guess you could say, factual.  The kind of conversation that is strictly a transmission of information.  This conversation was different.  She told me things about herself, and how it was for her during her son’s separation, how worried she was.  I saw a more human side to her, and opened up a little more myself.

I was so surprised by this conversation that I even mentioned it to my sister in law, who was dumbfounded.

The a couple of weeks ago, I was in the kitchen with her and she told me about how the kids’ mom had come over with the kids that week and had told her about all of the incidents we had gone through with the kids this past year, things that she had begged and pleaded with us not to tell my BF’s mother for fear of how she would react.  We agreed, though it was mostly to protect the kids than her.

She asked me to sit down and tell her everything, the real story.  She knows the Ex well, especially her tendency to exaggerate, She poured us each a glass of wine and I told her everything.  It was honestly a relief, knowing that we no longer need to watch our words.  I told her about how we had had to meet with child protective services twice this year, but that we (BF and I) were in no danger of losing the kids.  I told her how we had been to see two lawyers, as well as one of the kids’ psychologists.  I reassured her that we were doing everything that could be done, and that our ducks were in a row, and that we were ready to act should we ever believe the children needed intervention.  I even told her our reasons for not intervening.

It was a long talk.

And then my mother in law, this woman who had been so distant with me up until then, who rarely admitted I could be right, and barely acknowledged my role in her family. looked me in the eyes, with a tear in her own and said « thank you ».  She said that she was so grateful I was there looking out for her son and his children, and that she didn’t know what would have happened with all of this had I not been there.  She told me that she was in full agreement with our choices, including the one to not tell her immediately.  She also told me that we had her full support, whatever we should choose to do.  Best of all, she said that she could see how much I love my family, and that I really do love the children as if they were my own.

These were the nicest thing she has ever said to me, and a new beginning for our relationship.

Part One

Duelling mothers' in law

I am in a position that very few women would want to be in, I have not one, but two mothers in law, and they cannot stand each other.

My BF’s parents divorced about 10 years ago, pretty much as soon as the boys were self-sufficient, and his dad has been living with his girlfriend for almost 9 of those years.  The divorce was messy, and the result is that his mom and dad cannot be in the same room at the same time.  Trying to include both of them with the kids has been a logistics nightmare.

Mother in law #1, his actual mom, has been cold at best.  She is a very imposing person, strongly believes that she is always right, and that she is the only person who knows what is best for her children.  Sometimes in that respect she reminds me so much of my step kids’ mom it’s scary, no wonder they didn’t get along, it’s hard for two people to always be right at the same time.  Don’t get me wrong, she has always been polite and welcoming, but still very formal and standoffish.  My fellow sister in law and I have always felt very much add-ons.  We were the women who happened to be with her sons, nothing more.  We felt as though we were only worth what we did for her sons.  So far our strategy with her has been to try and be patient and understand that our predecessors were not good to her sons, and she is probably wary of getting close.

Mother in law #2 is the complete opposite.  She is warm, friendly, and totally accepting.  I still find it sad that we were almost a year with our respective men before meeting her.  Or boyfriends were not close with their dad, so we didn’t meet her until Christmas last year.  Since then she has been an invaluable pillar of support for me.  She immediately saw that I was doing my best for my family and hers.  She and my father in law have always treated me as a separate person, making sure that I was taking care of myself as well as everyone else.  They have both been there to help us make our home for the kids.  Helping us to make sure they had clothes and even coming over during the move to help paint and set up the kids’ rooms. 

It may be because she too is a later add-on to the family that she understands a little more how it feels to try and find your place in a new family.  It may also be because my sister in law and I have both encouraged our boyfriends to build a better relationship with their dad, and she appreciates that by helping us make our families better, she helps us to better her family too.  Either way, I have always felt that she and my FIL were on my side, and I have more than once ended up with them for dinner or coffee, even without the BF and kids.

Unfortunately having mother in law #2 be so great only served to make it harder to be patient with mother in law #1’s cold shoulder.  I admit, I have lost patience with her and even dreaded going to her house on special occasions.  Also difficult was the fact that for many years she had been giving advice to her son, my BF, and was very used to it being treated as gospel.  Now that he has been thinking for himself, or discussing things with me, she had gotten increasingly frustrated.  I was worried about the battle of wills that would inevitably happen.

Luckily for me, it didn’t.  The opposite actually happened.  I don’t know how or what changed, but all of a sudden MIL #1 did a 180 and completely changed her behaviour towards me.  I think I’ll leave the details of that story for another post.

Sometimes parenting hell is worth it

We had a fun filled weekend planned.  Fun activities, Santa, the whole deal.  The kids however, had decided otherwise it seemed.  Instead of bouncy castles and the such, we got full fledged parenting hell.

First off, one of the boys decided that he didn’t want to do anything. Nothing at all.  Every request to participate in an activity, whether it was getting dressed or hockey was met with a no so fierce I almost expected father Karras to knock at the door.  The oldest, whether it was in solidarity to his brother or just plain rebellion, decided to do the exact opposite of anything we asked, all the while singing an annoying song over and over and over.  The youngest, usually my sunny princess, apparently decided to catch up on all the terrible two-ing she missed.

It was one of the rare weekends where the BF and I both kind of look forward to them going back to their mom’s, essentially, they were jerks.  Our patience was nearing its limit.

Sunday afternoon came, and it was time to go to my office’s children’s Christmas party, and we seriously considered not going.  Did we really want to show this side of our family to my colleagues?  In the end we decided to use the party as a last ditch effort to salvage some semblance of family fun this weekend.  So we bundled the grumpy kids (and adults) and went.  At first they were shy, reserved, and not talking to anyone, but the girl in charge of the event was great, and soon the kids were having fun.

Santa came and there were presents, they played, we rested.  Then the girl in charge brought out a parachute.  Almost all of us adults looked at eachother with knowing smiles, remembering the sheer joy we had felt when we were kids and someone brought out the parachute in gym class.

There were not enough children for all of the parachute handles, so the BF volunteered.  They were playing a game where one person is on top of the parachute, and one under.  Everyone else shakes and moves the parachute making it difficult for the person on top to see the person under.  The person under tries to avoid capture.  After my BF had had his turn under the parachute, and was to be on top, the organizer suggested that since I was so good at heckling/teasing my BF, I should take a turn under the parachute.  I, being a participator by nature, took off my shoes and got under the parachute. 

Our oldest, the one who had held out hope for so long, as all children of divorce do, that his parents would get back together, the one with whom we’ve had the most trouble, loudly and proudly exclaimed « Those are my parents playing, those are MY parents! ».  It was the first time he had ever referred to me, in public or private, as a parent, or as anything other than his dad’s girlfriend.  Then the youngest begged to replace her dad as the person trying to catch me, he conceded.  The middle boy, the one who had spent the weekend grumping and growling cheated and helped his sister catch me.  All the kids were laughing as I got up, brushing off my pants.  Then I looked up at the BF, and we smiled at each other while thinking the same thing, we are a family, and it was all worth it. 

It was one of those spontaneous moments where you know right down to your core that you are in the right place, at the right time, and doing the right things.  No matter how hard it is.

Mommy issues

Lately I have noticed that most of my writing, as well as my life, has revolved around my relationships with other women, my mother, my mother’s in law, etc. 

In the past, this has always been a subject that I pushed to the background, mostly because they were either painful relationships, or unimportant ones.  I have a few, fantastic, female friends, who for the most part I have been friends with for over half my life, but other than them, my relationships with women have been strained at best.

Lately, this has been changing, for the better.  I don’t know if there is some weird cosmic thing going on, but the dynamics with the women in my life have been dramatically changing, and while it is mostly positive, it has also been exhausting.  I am pretty good at adapting to change, but when I am in a period where many areas of my life are changing at the same time, I get tired, both physically and emotionally.  The fact that all of this is happening around the holidays does not help things.

That being said, it has helped a lot to write it and get it out there, even if no one reads it, its therapeutic.  So I guess this was all to say that for those of you who do read this, bear with me, there are a few more mommy issue posts comingJ.

Mothers and daughters 2

I took Friday afternoon off work and went to pick her up.  My insides were a pit of nausea and anxiety.  She looked much the same, but her voice had changed, much deeper and raspier than before, but she has been a smoker most of her life, so I guess it’s to be expected.  She got in the car and we headed to my place.  We chatted, mostly small talk about her trip.  Neither of us too sure of how to act.  We hadn’t seen each other in over 5 years, and before that visit was another five.  A lot had changed.

We got to the apartment and my BF had made lunch, so cute.  Clearly trying to impress his mother in law whom he had never met.  She was duly impressed.  We ate and then headed to my hometown, to see my dad’s family, none of whom she had seen in almost 15 years.  I hadn’t warned anyone other than my one cousin, I figured I may as well have fun with this, see the look on people’s faces.

They were all completely dumbfounded, seeing me with my mom in their town was probably the last thing they expected short of a zombie apocalypse.  The last stop before going home was to see my dad.  And this I dreaded more than anything.  They had both expressed a desire to see each other, for curiosity or old time’s sake, who knows.  All I knew was that having my parents in the same room was never a happy memory for me, and the last time my mom punched my dad.  Despite everyone’s assurances that they had grown up since then and water under the bridge yadda yadda, all I could see in my head was essentially a parental cage fight with some passerby yelling « finish him! »

Surprisingly, it went well, they talked about old times, about how foolish they had been, and how proud they are of me.  This was the first time I could remember seeing my parents smile while in the same room.  I took pictures to prove the event really happened.

Then we went back to my place for a quiet night.  I barely slept.  The next day she met the kids, we all had fun, and because the kids are awesome, she fell in love with them.  When the kids left we took her out for dinner.  Then another quiet night in.

She talked openly and honestly about her family, my childhood, and her life.  It was refreshing.  My BF would later tell me that he had always had a small lingering part of him that wondered if my childhood and family was a messed up and weird as I said it was (which is natural given that his ex is well known for her talents of exaggeration) but that having my mom there, saying all the same things was a relief, sort of.  On the one hand he was relieved that I had not overly exaggerated, but on the other hand, holy crap was my childhood screwed up lol!

On Sunday, when it was time to take her to the station, I was relieved that it had gone so well.  I was happy to honestly tell her that we would do it again.  Things had ever been so close to normal between us.  I watched her get back on the bus, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I felt hope for us.

Mothers and daughters - Part 1

People who know me know that my mom and I have a difficult relationship.  I have seen her 3 times in the pas decade, one of them recently.  I have two main reasons for not being close to her, the first is that we are just not compatible; we have very different personalities and would not hang out together if we weren’t related.  The other is that my mom, until recently, was part of a dysfunctional and abusive cycle lasting at least three generations, a cycle I have been determined to break out of.

The first thing they tell a recovering drug addict or alcoholic is to avoid the people they used to associate with who were part of the habit/problem.  For me it was the same, if I wanted to break out of the cycle, I had to stay as far away (physically and emotionally) as possible from the people still in it. 

I come from a long line of women who got pregnant young, had severe daddy issues, and who were alcoholic and/or abusive to their daughters.  A quick summary:

My great grandmother: When she was young she came to Canada with her parents, her father then abandoned the family to return to Ireland leaving them to fend for themselves. Was furious and generally horrible to her daughter when she got pregnant at 15, attempting multiple times to get her to miscarry.  She would go on to treat her daughters with contempt for « dishonoring the family »

My grandmother: Got pregnant at 15 in the 50s by a married man.  This man divorced his wife and married her.  They were both alcoholics with severe mental health issues, him a paranoid schizophrenic, and her bipolar.  The got divorced, then remarried, then divorced again. He abandoned the family twice.  She never got over it, and never got treated for her mental illness.

My mother: Left home at 15, pregnant at 19 by a man whose divorce wasn’t final and she didn’t know had been married. Both alcoholics with substance abuse and mental health issues.  They never married, and I’ve never known my parents as a couple.

All three of these women were an important part of my childhood.  My great grandmother was only in her 50s when I was born.  My great grandmother was wonderful to me; I would only realize how she treated my grandmother once I was an adult, long after her death.  My grandmother and I were never close, but I loved her and learned from her mistakes as much as I could.  My mother, well, things were harder for us.

One thing I was certain of, I would not repeat their patterns.  I did everything possible to avoid unplanned pregnancy and became the first person in that family to finish high school in the normal timeline.  I started working as soon as possible to gain as many skills as possible to avoid having to go on welfare.  When I decided to break away emotionally, I cut off contact and moved closer to my saner family.  Throughout the years, my mother and I re-attempted contact a few times, but she had never really gotten her life together, and while I had forgiven her long ago, and I understood now that she had done the best she could with what she had and that she gave me all she could, I could not have that toxic cycle in my life, and I could not clean up her messes for her or watch her destroy herself.  She understood, even though it hurt.  She was proud in a way that I had the strength to break out.

A few years ago she started therapy, and started working on her issues in earnest.  She no longer drinks the way she did, and she has her life mostly under control.  She told me that the isolation I had caused her was a good thing because it forced her to focus solely on herself.

This past year my grandmother died.  It was hard for my mom, and my grandmother had many regrets, most of them regarding my mother and I.  When she was hospitalized, we were going through some pretty heavy stuff with the kids, and I made the decision not to go see her one last time.  We had not seen each other in over a decade, and had spoken on the phone for the first time in about 8 years a few months before.  I decided that I had to take care of my present family, I made my choice.  I explained it to my mom and grandmother, and my grandmother understood and even stood up for me to any other family members who made comments about my absence.  The only thing my grandmother asked of me was to see my mom, to try again.

I talked it over with my BF and he agreed.  She could come down for a couple of days.  My mom was overjoyed at the chance, and assured me that it would not be like before.  Nonetheless I was stressed in the week leading up to it.  I even broke out in hives.  I’d be lying if I said the thought of cancelling never crossed my mind.  But I am a firm believer in second chances, especially when they are earned.  She had been working on her life for almost three years now, it was the least I could do.

Continued…